


always say always

by imaginedandreal



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Crushes, F/M, Friendship/Love, Pining, Romantic Angst, Romantic Friendship, Some Fluff, i'm so sorry in advance, just to be clear nobody dies who knows what you poor dears expect lol, pretty much all angst if i'm honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedandreal/pseuds/imaginedandreal
Summary: They were friends, just friends, ever since they were kids. No one had warned them that the elusive moment between friendship and something stronger can become an invisible wall.





	always say always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainysunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainysunshine/gifts).



> Hi, Rainy! Here’s a little something for you. It’s got angst and pining galore, just like you (and all of us here) like it - nothing less for the creator of the Soulmates AU. I almost gave myself heartbreak while writing it, but it was good twisted masochistic fun. I hope you enjoy it, hugs!! I await yelling at myself from the other side of the interwebz.
> 
> Be advised (this is for everyone), there are mentions of assault here, but not too graphic.

_“Watch out!”_

_The boy racing across the cold rink called out a warning to a smaller, more bundled-up creature - he couldn’t tell if it was another boy or a girl, so snug was its protective cocoon. A tiny voice gasped and tried to dart away from the impending collision, but Scott couldn’t do anything to stop the puffy coat-wearing creature from falling onto the ice, after knocking itself off-balance. Having skidded on, he immediately raced back to where the stunned little boy? (girl?) sat, blinking huge eyes in bewildered unfocus. Scott slid slowly towards him or her, offering a hand._

_“Uh...hey, are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go so fast and make you fall.” Saying so, he helped the child up, and only then spotted light reddish-brown bangs peeking from the white hat. The gap-toothed smile, along with a small button nose, sprinkled with freckles, was decidedly girlish. So, a girl._

_She didn’t appear angry with him, dusting ice shavings from the bottom of her pants. Scott had the strange realization that he didn’t like having to let go of her mittened hand, as he watched her steady herself._

_“It’s fine, I’m fine,” she chattered in her high little voice, finally looking at him directly. Scott, for the first time in his nine years of life, was stunned just how_ green _and_ sparkling _a human being’s eyes could be. Like the emerald earrings that his Dad gave his Ma for Valentine’s Day._

_“Please, don’t worry about me,” she added. And then, “What’s your name?”_

_Caught off guard by the direct question, Scott stammered, so unlike his usual extroverted self. “Um, right, it’s Scott. Scott Moir.”_

_“Nice to meet you, Scott,” said the little girl. “I’m Tessa Virtue.”_

_Another sweet smile, and flickers of light danced in those green eyes. Scott, too, had no idea why the sight made his hands sweat, and his heartbeat go faster. He’d have assumed that it was because of his physical exertion, only he’d been standing for the past few minutes or so._

_Tessa fidgeted then, looking for someone briefly in the benches, and a slight shiver of anxiety filled him. She wasn’t leaving, was she? He didn’t want her to; neither did he know why he didn’t want her to leave. He had to think of something, anything, quickly. Offers of hot chocolate from the rink cafe, more questions about herself -_

_“Do you wanna skate with me for a bit?”_

_Exactly when he blurted it out, she had started saying, “Well, I guess I have to go home -”_

_Scott felt heat flooding his cheeks. That was stupid of him. Why would he assume she wanted to skate with him?_

_To his immense astonishment and relief, a grin unlike any smile he’d yet seen from her these past minutes, illuminated what was visible of her face under the warm hat._

_“That sounds like fun. My mom can wait.”_

_He didn’t think he had felt such a joy to be on ice even during his first trial hockey games in the junior league. When he again took hold of Tessa’s small palm and they glided off around the rink, he felt as if he was soaring just like the professional skaters on competitions he used to watch with Ma on TV._

_Organically, like the smooth slide of a skate on pristine ice, their friendship took off right after that first meeting. They discovered, to their mutual happy surprise, that they both lived on the same street just a few houses away from each other._

_Tessa went to the same school as Scott, only of course, she was two grades down, being seven to his nine. Disregarding good-natured teasing from his older brothers and friends, he sat next to her at lunch every day, as they talked about everything going on in each other’s lives, munching on apples and sandwiches that were packed into their bags by their caring moms. They played with each other’s classmates at recess, and, if a group game was in order, Scott made sure to be on Tessa’s team. Though she was two years younger, there was no one faster, her age or more, than she was, on the monkey bars. Scott honestly admitted that it impressed him. Every other afternoon, they rotated going to the other’s house for dinner and then did homework together. Where Tessa excelled on any assignment that involved writing and offered him advice, too, Scott always lent her a hand with the multiplication tables and other math topics challenging for her. Most of all, there was the occasional Saturday or Sunday where the two met at the rink for several hours of skating, and so were inseparable on the ice until their mothers gently but firmly insisted they had to go home._

_On the first Halloween after they met, Scott firmly decided to dress as a hockey player. The past few years, he grew bored with ostentatiously ‘scary’ costumes, and wanted to appear dressed in the outfit of his not-so-secret dream job. He’d put on his Leafs jersey, a birthday present from his parents, and completed the look with his hockey gloves and Leafs hat, and the costume earned him high-fives from all his school buddies. He’d been buzzing with excitement all day, hardly able to wait until the evening, when their moms, also friends at this point, promised to take him and Tessa trick-or-treating._

_When he and his mom walked up to the Virtues’ house, he saw that Tessa was already waiting for them, with her signature shy but sweet smile. She was wearing a soft pink faux-fur jacket over a frothy pink tutu dress, white tights, and slippers that looked like ballet shoes. A glittery gilded headband offset the light brown of her hair. The plastic orange jack-o-lantern candy basket dangled from her hand as she swung it excitedly._

_“Scott! You’re here!”_

_Scott ran up the stairs to the porch and hugged her, grinning when he felt her arms go around him in return. He was doubly eager to go scavenging for sweets, now that he’d had his friend and sidekick ready to accompany him._

_“Of course I’m here,” he replied, warmly, once they let go of the hug. “I like your costume, Tutu,” he remarked, touching the tulle skirt, and Tessa’s cheeks pinked, as she smiled bashfully._

_“Thank you,” she said softly. “I like yours.”_

_Their mothers, who also greeted each other and were exchanging small talk, smiled at the picture._

_“Aren’t they a sweet pair?” Alma said to Kate, shaking her head affectionately at their offspring._

_“Cute as buttons,” Tessa’s mother agreed, content at seeing both children so naturally friendly. The mothers snapped a few photos of the two grinning trick-or-treaters, and they set out._

_About two hours later, the energetic duo was returning to their homes, their plastic baskets chock-full of sweet rewards. They already were sugar-buzzed, with Tessa’s basket sporting significantly more empty wrappers than Scott’s. When they stopped by her house, which was nearest, he noticed the lack of uneaten candy in her pile and frowned. He wanted her to leave with more of them, for the future days._

_“Tess, you’re a candy demolisher,” he joked gently. Tessa giggled and shrugged._

_“I love sweets, you know. I couldn’t resist,” she gave a slightly rueful glance to her half-empty pile. “Especially the strawberry lozenges. I saved them for later. They’re sooo good,” she enthused, but then sobered and sighed quietly. “When I brought a bag of them to share with my class, like the teacher told us to for our Halloween school party, some of the boys laughed at me that I like old-people candy.”_

_Scott scowled, his fingers clenching into fists involuntarily. “It’s none of their business. It was super rude of them to say that.”_

_“Do you think I like old-people candy?”_

_Tessa sounded small and insecure for a moment, and his frustration deepened. Even such a small thing like candy preferences, and her classmates still made fun of her for liking certain ones._

_“No, you like the candy that you like. That makes you Tessa, just like me liking hockey makes me Scott. They’re being rude and immature. Don’t listen to a bunch of dummies, Tutu,” he comforted her._

_Tessa’s answering smile brightened the blustery fall night. Her eyes sparkled in the glow of the jack-o-lantern on her porch that they carved the day before._

_“Thank you, Scott. You are just a great friend.”_

_Her palms grasped his hands. Her fingers were warm and a bit sticky from the candy, but Scott couldn’t care less._

_That night, Tessa left to her house with almost a whole basket full of strawberry lozenges, which Scott had picked out from his own pile and given to her. And yet it wasn’t his own generosity which made him feel warm inside._

_Her friend. She called him her friend._

_And was he ever overjoyed to be._

It didn't change. They didn’t change at all - at least, their friendship didn’t, as they grew from year to year, moved from grade to grade, occupied themselves with the hockey team and ballet classes. As much as Scott enjoyed hanging out with his school and hockey guys, his spending time with Tessa never bored him. It was the opposite, as they both grew closer in their friendship. They supported each other, made the other feel better through kind words and hugs, a well-timed joke or a surprise hot chocolate (though Tessa substituted the last one for pizza and chicken wings, knowing Scott’s lack of a sweet tooth). 

They helped each other through hard times, most of all, and it was during those times that they were especially glad to have each other. 

Scott loved hockey, but his love for the game could hold no candle for Tessa’s absolute living and breathing ballet. She was more and more immersed into the world, and soon around her thirteenth birthday, began to obsess over her main part as Clara in _The Nutcracker._

Scott was already envisioning how he would clap and cheer as she took her final bows, and how, beforehand, he would sit in the audience, enraptured by her skill and grace. He’d accompanied her to some rehearsals, and waited for her outside the studio, peeking between the blinds on the windows. Transfixed by the sight of his friend executing flawless turns and jumps, he would hardly have the time to jolt away from the door as it opened, signaling that class had ended. 

Except life had other plans for her. 

It was as simple as the flu, a stupid, stupid bout of flu, a day before performance night. 

Tessa’s mom had called his mom, and sounded very worried, saying that Tessa was tossing and turning, burning with a fever, and calling for Scott. 

When he came, Tessa fell into delirium. “Scott,” she moaned, pushing her sweat-warmed covers off and struggling to sit up. “Scott, I can’t miss it, I can’t miss the performance,” while he tried to calm her down and reason with her. Anyone could see that Tessa was too ill to climb out of bed, nevermind go onstage, and Scott’s heart ached for her. She’d waited so much for this particular performance, and now she could not have it.

They ended subbing her out for the next available dancer. Tessa didn’t find out until the day of the performance, when, in a painful irony, her fever died down. She’d made her mother tell her what happened, and burst out sobbing. 

Scott was there for her, but he hated seeing her subsequent anguish, tears, and anger at the injustice of the illness. His arms contained her furiously flailing ones. His shoulder soaked her bitter tears up. Forcing himself to be strong for her, his friend, he wished so desperately that it was he who had been in the throes of sickness, not her talented, worthy, _good_ self. 

She completely lost interest in ballet after that unfortunate malady, eventually stopping to take lessons altogether and quitting the studio. Though, to Scott, it looked more like the cutting off of a baby’s umbilical cord, which connected it to its lifeblood. Learning to live without her passion and beloved hobby, almost her future career, was agony for Tessa. Not even Kate, not even _he_ could coax her to continue to try again. What was the worst was her reticence about it. Scott told himself to downplay his hockey wins and achievements in front of her, in order not to hurt her more. Yet, even if he had no choice but to mention the smallest thing related to hockey, he always thought he caught a resentful note in every ‘that’s great, Scott’ that she answered with. She could tolerate no pink, gauzy fabric, and shoved all her tutus, leotards, and pointe shoes into a plastic bag to dump them into the trash. She was decidedly done with ballet. 

The tears passed along with the years. At fourteen, Tessa gave up being sad about ballet, just like one would reject clothes no longer in fashion. She sketched, matched, and tried her hand at design now. Yes, Tessa Virtue, who favored casual (if neat and flattering) clothes, seemed to have made up her mind to become a fashion designer. 

Scott was truly happy that she had found the strength to pull herself out of her post-ballet depression. Tessa started to hang out more and more with the popular girls who welcomed her with open arms once they noticed that she started to follow fashion trends and even celebrity gossip. Her sincere and warm nature, who always saw the good in everyone, was sadly blind to the insincerity and shallowness of her new friends. She fell prey to peer pressure and even dyed her auburn hair a darker color now, because her friends had said it was too ‘babyish.’ Scott was indignant when he heard Tessa tell it to him, because he had expected her to stand up to them, not to follow their condescending advice a few days later. 

“Aw, Scott, come on! The girls didn’t want to make me feel bad. I love this new color. Don’t you?”

She twirled in front of the mirror with the brightest smile. Scott found the smile contagious. It wasn’t the change in hair color that made Tessa beautiful. His friend already was so _, so_ pretty. Because she could smile like this. He dropped the subject for now. 

If Tessa was happy, so was he.

Right? 

He still decided to search for a way to help Tessa see that her so-called ‘friends’ were bad for her, when she surprised him first.

On their annual school Friendship Day, Scott knew that some of the kids at school were making friendship bracelets in arts and crafts to give to those they considered close friends. Scott himself had no such sentimental plans - he had an important hockey practice that day which consumed his every thought. At the end of the day, he traditionally made the short trip from his high school to Tessa’s middle school. Climbed upstairs, ready to wait for her, but then his world went dark when a pair of warm, small palms covered his eyes. He couldn’t suppress a grin. He’d pick those hands and that strawberry scent out of millions of hands and fragrances.

“Scott! Happy Friendship Day!” Tessa squealed behind him, but did not remove her hands. 

“Happy Friendship Day, T,” he replied. He’d privately thought the friends day idea was silly, and yet when Tessa so sincerely greeted him like this, he had nothing at all against it. This was the highlight of every day, after all. Not even hockey. Seeing his best friend. 

Meanwhile, Tessa said, “I’m going to do something, but don’t turn around or open your eyes until I say, okay?”

“Sure,” he agreed, smiling still. He felt her taking his right hand and wrapping something around his wrist. 

“You can look now.”

He opened his eyes. A bracelet twisted together from colorful threads and cords, adorned with beads with the letter ‘T’ and ‘S’ surrounded his wrist. He glanced from it to Tessa, who was smiling widely. Her green eyes shone.

“What do you think? I decided to make you one, since you’re my best friend, but you totally don’t have to wear it, if you don’t like it, it’s just that today’s Friendship Day, and I thought -”

She squeaked a bit when he interrupted her by hugging her tight. Scott was so touched by her gesture, as touched as he never had been in his life. This small, innocent thing made him feel so light and happy. 

“I love it, T,” he murmured close to her ear. “I’m never going to take it off.”

“Not even in the shower?” she teased, when they pulled apart.

“Not even there,” he promised solemnly, both of them dissolving into giggles. 

“So, _friend,”_ Scott winked at her, taking her hand with the braceleted hand, “I have a surprise of your own, for today.”

His own present for Friendship Day turned out to be more predictable, but, judging from Tessa’s delighted laugh, it was anything but boring. He’d taken her to their favorite cafe, where he bought her the largest double chocolate sundae they had. 

Two days later, their friendship received its first big challenge.

Scott was on his way to pick Tessa up that day, as usual. He was just turning into the school yard, when an uproar of what sounded like male laughter and female calling for help grabbed his attention. He peeked right around the corner of the school - 

Tessa, _his_ T, was caged in by three older guys from his high school. He knew the gang - they often gathered in parks and schoolyards to chainsmoke and catcall girls. But now they were keeping Tessa captive right beside her own school, and it froze him to the spot, in instant fury and fear. What were they going to do to her? 

They grabbed her in turn as she thrashed wildly, her slight size no match for their strength. To Scott’s horror, one of the guys, the oldest, largest, and most repulsive of the three, got close into her space and began to tug her shirt apart. 

Scott saw clear tears of rage in Tessa’s eyes, as he inched closer. She didn’t scream anymore; she snarled at her tormentor like a cornered animal. 

He was calling her a _little whore_ and speculating on the size of her chest which he was about to look at, and other horrible but irrelevant things, but Scott made his mind up to fight. Fight for her, fight and save his Tessa. His precious friend. 

“Come on, you little slut, don’t you want it?” the guy was sneering at her. 

Blood rushed into Scott’s head with white-hot intensity. Not a stick or rock was there on the ground to help him. Thus, he’d rely on his own strength and sheer dumb luck. 

He remembered the fight in fragments. The three stronger and heavier boys did not expect their opponent to be smaller but much more vicious. There was so much screaming again: Scott and the other three were screaming with rage, Tessa with fear as she cowered by the wall having escaped the grasp of the one who restrained her. Scott fought desperately, with no regard for blood. He knew that the one to win can often not be the strongest one, but the one who was not afraid to defend himself by any means necessary.

He didn’t know who and how pulled him off the bullies. He didn’t care that his nose was leaking bright red blood all over his shirt and that his ribs must have been bruised. He had one terrified thought left in his brain. Tessa. Where was Tessa? 

“Tessa! TESSA!” He had the impression of yelling for all he was worth, but really, it was a weak whisper, as he slowly lost consciousness.

He woke up to a light strawberry scent very near him, and a sharp ache in his chest and shoulders. 

“Tess...T…” he whispered hoarsely. 

_“Scott!”_

His name on her lips was a whimper of concern for him. She squeezed his right hand, the one that was cast-free. The one that still had her friendship bracelet on it. 

“I was so scared. So scared that you...that you could be…” A sob broke her shaky speech. “I wasn’t as scared even when they - when they pounced on me.” 

Scott made his best effort to squeeze her hand back. He stared deeply into her tearful eyes, marveling, even in that moment, how beautiful the green irises were. 

“I’m here, kiddo,” he smiled. A faint smile in reply glinted on her face. “I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

She nodded, still blinking back tears, and leaned to touch her lips to his cheek. Scott’s heart picked up wildly. In that moment, he was nearly sure she healed him with that innocent gesture better than bandages or bed rest could.

Later, he found out that the gang of delinquents who had attacked Tessa were arrested at the juvenile center for harassment and assault, thanks to Tessa’s testimonies as witness. Scott was questioned, too, and during interrogations, and his subsequent departure from the hospital, he always held her hand - as a silent sign that it was going to be okay. That their friendship would be strong enough to suffer through this. 

The arm that wasn’t hurt had an amulet in the form of that colorful circle of thread. A tiny dark red spot, undoubtedly from a drop of blood, marked the cementing of their friendship still further.

However, Scott caught himself looking at Tessa differently from that time onwards. He hated that, perhaps, those demeaning and insulting comments from that bully may have spurned the thought process in him. After all, the douchebag had harassed and grabbed Tessa against her consent, with the intent to humiliate, to subjugate her. And he, Scott? He was helpless in the face of the sudden realization that shook his very self.

Tessa, his friend, was a very, very pretty girl. And not pretty in the ‘Hi, T, I like your dress!’ casual way, but in a way that made _him_ want to hold her close and kiss her (in places other than cheeks and temples), and whisper absolutely unplatonic things to her. 

Two points of view battled in him. First of all, had he any business to think like that about her? She was fourteen, just under fifteen, and she still was interested in friendship bracelets, chocolate, and stuffed animals (he was sworn to secrecy after glimpsing Bubbles, her childhood teddy bear, sitting on her neatly made bed at home, without change). 

Second of all...his friend was breath-catchingly lovely. He wasn’t crude, and he’d never dream to be crude with Tessa. He didn’t stare after her with his tongue lolling out like a hungry dog, like those bullies had, like some other older and more shameless guys did. He was gazing at her, the entirety of her, at any given moment: when she spoke excitedly about her art projects, and about her fashion column for the school newspaper, when she threw her wavy-haired head back, laughing so hard she snorted sometimes; when she fell asleep on his shoulder that one time, during a car drive to the annual Canada Day Virtue-Moir picnic. 

When she strutted out onto the beach, wearing the simplest but the most enticing swimsuit.

The pink polka-dot ensemble taunted Scott. He stole glances at her, praying that she wouldn’t catch him and be offended, though he had no desire whatsoever to make her feel uncomfortable. But with her skin dotted with golden-brown freckles, and the swimsuit flattering her slim body, with the beach cover-up being really unhelpful, because it stoked his imagination, she was spellbinding. The sun that had been shining, and the blue waves that were lapping onto the sand paled in comparison to her simple and natural beauty. 

The torment didn’t end there. 

“Scott? Could you help me? I can’t reach my back.”

Damn. Shit. Why now? Why him? _Why?!_

Unable to resist, both for being her friend and for grasping at an opportunity to touch her, even innocently, he took the bottle of sunscreen. 

_You goddamn coward. You two checked each other’s heads for lice after that one summer camp thing, and you can’t spread a bit of sunscreen on her back?_

The instant his hands touched the silk of her shoulders and back, he was gone for. Code red, abort mission, his mind screamed, because he was, in that helpless teenage boy way, having a dire situation inside his swimming shorts. 

_Goddamn idiot. Fucking goddamn pathetic dumbass. Control yourself, Moir, Jesus Christ._

But neither his silent and furious self-flagellation, nor his attempt to remember the time last summer when Danny and Charlie dared him to chug beer until he threw up could remedy his reaction. Holding his breath with nervousness, he prayed that Tessa wouldn’t see it; though why just her, that _nobody_ would notice how hoarse his ‘All done, T!’ sounded. 

At least that prayer was answered, but just partly. “Thanks!” Tessa’s reply was blithe, but then, she touched her lips to his cheek, almost his jawline. 

He practically sprinted away, pretending that he needed the restroom. And he did. After a stern pep talk, he took several deep breaths and walked back out, only to hear Tessa calling an invitation for an improvised game of water polo.

The game went on without any incidents, other than the time Tessa squealed and moved out of the way, splashing water, after Danny served the ball too enthusiastically. She’d bumped into Scott, backwards, and he caught her by the waist, circling her within his arms.

He forgot how to breathe or think for several moments. His arms were full of her. His nose and lungs were steadily getting drunker on her sweet strawberry scent (couldn’t she have bought a sunscreen with a different fragrance?!) The warm side of her neck was right there, a hair-breadth from his lips. It would be so easy, _too_ easy, to brush his lips a minuscule amount against that skin, to write it off as an accident, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He had no right to. They were friends. It wasn’t happening. No matter if he was aching for it, in a quite literal way. He thought he’d heard her sigh, the instant his arms touched her, but it was his stupid imagination. Nothing more. 

There would be times when he kept blaming it all on his imagination, when she’d leave her hand on his knee for longer than platonic friendship allowed, when her hugs lasted longer and were tighter, when her voice was oddly lower than the situation warranted. 

They were friends, just friends, ever since they were kids. No one had warned them that the elusive moment between friendship and something stronger can become an invisible wall. 

They were friends. They couldn’t. The mantra-slash-curse followed him, them, to college.

At nineteen, Scott noticed, with great astonishment, that he was popular with the girls in his dorm and classes. He and Tessa had gone to the same school - she for fashion, obviously, and he for sports coaching - but their friend groups widened considerably, even if they still hung out together separately from everyone else.

The variety of girls was a heady discovery. Hell, his hormones were boiling over at this point. He suddenly wanted sex - with anyone, at any time, anything he could get - so he wouldn’t be sitting there, the last virgin in his sophomore college class, if the rumors that his buddies traded were true. He reasoned, if he could not have anything like it with Tessa, he’d take the first available option.

The Option’s name was Brooke, and she was already of an age where she was both able to vote and not be worried about fake ID’s for bars and clubs. Outgoing and bubbly, with beachy blonde waves, blue eyes, and a tall, curvy body, she was the ideal Option. Casual. Convenient. Cool. 

Everything happened almost inappropriately easily. At a party, Brooke strode up to him and offered him a red cup of whatever concoction the party organizers had stirred in that room, like some modern Eve that would tempt him to make hot-headed decisions using a modern red apple. Not ten minutes later, Brooke was straddling him in her dorm room bed, purring that he didn’t have to be shy, that she liked him so much, she liked exactly the type of guy he was, with _big, big_ hazel eyes, and _long, long_ eyelashes. He wasn’t drunk in the least, but there was a slowness to his movements. He just let her take the reins and do everything to him, and, if he was brutally honest, whatever she was doing felt pretty damn good. He tried his best to reciprocate. Brooke seemed unfazed by his lack of experience, but he thought her moans were too theatrical to be born of honest pleasure. In spite of his drink and his lack of clear reason for doing this, other than him being male and her being female and them getting caught up, Scott liked it. _Didn’t he?_

He kept asking himself that as he’d stumbled out of Brooke’s dorm room the next morning. She let him go with a scribbled phone number and a ‘Later, Scotty!’

_What if she was Tessa? Would you let yourself get caught up?_

Scott pushed the thought into the furthest corner of his mind, as soon as it surfaced. Just like he’d pushed away the memory of last night, when he’d gotten the hang, kinda-sorta, of making Brooke climax on the third try, and suddenly saw a flash of green in her eyes, watching the blonde waves turn to darker tresses for a second. _The alcohol,_ he told himself sternly.

He and Brooke continued to hook up right until her graduation. By that point, he’d gotten confident in bed, not needing her instruction anymore. She was fun, sexy, and a good person otherwise. But there was a serious detail contributing to his lack of missing her, as she left the dorms: he didn’t like her. Well, he did, of course, just not...just not the way he should have liked his first sort-of girlfriend. He was worried about another thing. He’d been so busy with these new experiences, that he had no idea if Tessa was seeing anyone in the meantime.

With a guilty relief, Scott found out through the grapevine that she wasn’t. Schoolwork and fashion projects occupied her every free moment. They still spent time together, and gathered in his parents’ house for the odd Sunday brunch, as Scott’s final year of undergrad drew to a close. Sometimes, they returned to the rink where he now worked for an hour of skating together, and laughter in spades. Again and again, if they were at his house, Scott had the distinct sense of knowing that Ma knew what was going on in his mind; that she could tell what he thought about Tessa, those thoughts that he kept private because they were of the unfriendly category. He was sure he caught a wistful smile on his mother’s face when he’d carried Tessa in his arms the whole way back home after a post-brunch walk in the park, after she’d rubbed blisters on her heels. 

On the couch that night, he and Tess first talked about the future. Scott had graduated that month, and was slowly integrating himself into the world of junior hockey coaching. Tessa’s own commencement was next year - she had gotten an internship at the Canadian headquarters of Vogue, beginning the first week of July. 

“I really hope they want me because I’m good at something, and not just because they need a naive college student to push around,” she admitted nervously, picking at a couch cushion’s fringe. 

Scott shook his head a tiny bit. Tessa’s achievements were nothing short of brilliant, already having captured the attention of such a famous magazine, and yet she was sitting here, doubting herself. He took both of her hands, and gave them a light squeeze, making her focus back to him.

“T, don’t be shy about yourself. You know you’re pretty damn great at what you do, and they want you because they are impressed,” he reminded her firmly. The corners of Tessa’s lips quirked up.

“How is it that you can make me feel that much more confident?”

He smiled in return, poking her nose gently. “Because I’m your friend. Always.” 

She giggled, a silver bell that washed over Scott’s heart, echoing as a rush of adoration so powerful, he barely squeezed it into submission.

“So are you, kiddo,” she said. She’d started reciprocating the goofy nickname to him, and hearing it made him simultaneously want to laugh and kiss her senseless, that adorable it was. 

Her glance slipped down, and she frowned. Scott did not understand why, until he followed her eyes onto his wrist.

“You’re not wearing it anymore,” she brushed her finger tip over the bare skin. “The bracelet,” she clarified, when he blinked.

_Oh. Well, she was going to see eventually._

He swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “It’s just that the kids on the rink are roughhousing around so much, I’m scared it would get ripped if I pull any more fights apart. And I can’t have that happen to the best accessory anyone’s given me,” he explained casually. Tessa smiled again, sincerely.

“I love that you care about it so much. Thank you,” she murmured.

Of course, the official reason he’d taken the bracelet off was much different than what he’d told her. The first time he’d slept with Brooke, Scott was irrationally horrified, after waking up in her bed, that the bracelet was there on his wrist. He rushed to take it off, taking effort to undo the tight knotting, since he wouldn’t dare cut it apart. It was like he’d defiled the innocent accessory that his _friend,_ his one and only Tess made for him. Since then, it was stashed in his bedside drawer, the one to which he had a key since teenagehood, protecting it from Danny and Charlie’s curiosity. Next to it were his other secret treasures - the snapshot of him and Tessa pummeling each other with Nerf guns as kids, that first photo of their Halloween at seven and nine, the tickets for two to the Leafs game for his birthday which she’d presented him with two years ago, the good-luck safety pin which she’d spontaneously given him before his most significant hockey match, when he and the team ended up with the trophy. At twenty-one, he was too old to be so sappy, he chastised himself, but then, all these trinkets led him back to his most important relationship. To Tessa.

They fell asleep together on that couch. When he cracked his eyes open in the morning, it was to a sight that squeezed his heart. Tessa had burrowed her face in his chest, curled up in his arms like it was the safest and coziest place in the world. He saw that a bit of drool dampened his t-shirt as she was snoring softly, but it did not bother him in the slightest. He had a burst of aching desire to wake her up with kisses and sweet words, to let her know that he wanted to _be_ with her the way he’d secretly yearned for years now. But he couldn’t. He had no right to barter her friendship for anything else. He cherished their bond too much for it.

Her dark eyelashes fluttered, and he again lost breath momentarily at the revelation of the emerald in her gaze. 

“Hi,” she greeted softly, sleepily. Scott had to gather every sliver of willpower to not give up and kiss her then. 

“Hi, kiddo,” he whispered, full of amazement and gratitude that she was still there. Always his Tess, in no matter what role.

For several years thereafter, they saw less and less of each other. They were too caught up in their budding careers. There were several brief relationships - on Scott’s part, though they were more pleasant pastimes than meaningful connections, and, as he was increasingly depressed to find out, on Tessa’s as well. He knew it wasn’t his place to mope and whine about it, seeing as he’d had plenty of abandoned chances to man up and reveal his feelings, but it hurt. He masked the pain as best as he knew: with hockey, with hookups. It dulled the pain, in no way taking it away entirely. He lived from evening to evening, when Skype, whose existence he blessed again and again, turned on to show him Tess, now living in Montreal and running an increasingly popular independent fashion boutique of her own. She still wrote columns for Vogue every other week, and he made sure to buy every copy and carefully clip out the articles, as if reading her words would substitute touching her. She told him she missed him, and sounded so heart-achingly sincere.

_I miss you so much, T,_ his mind and soul wept as a duet. _What I wouldn’t give to see you again in person, to hold your hand and look in your eyes, without a laptop screen._

Another trial for them had prompted her move to another city in the first place. She’d been still living in London, renting a small apartment with a roommate not far from her mom’s new house, who’d in turn moved there after divorcing Tessa’s father. Scott privately thought that Tessa’s pain and confusion after the messy divorce was what propelled her into the relationship with her first somewhat serious boyfriend. That douchebag, Ryan.

Supposedly, he was not a douchebag from the start, or was hiding it well and biding his time. It’s just that, ten months into this relationship that left a bad feeling in Scott’s gut, Tessa had called him, sobbing and nearly hysterical. She’d come home to Ryan and her roommate Jessica having what looked and sounded like lots of fun in her, _Tessa’s_ bed. She kicked both out of the apartment and fell into a fetal position on the bedroom floor, having barely any mind, from the shock, to call Scott.

He’d sped in his car from Ilderton to London in record time, and rushed into the house using his emergency key. Despite a burning need to find and strangle Ryan, he knew he had to take care of Tess, first and foremost. He was hurting as bad for her as she was, watching her shed tears of pain, disappointment, and disillusionment in her so-called boyfriend. What she revealed, gasping, was that apparently it was far from the first time Ryan and Jessica engaged in such pastimes, though it was the first and last occasion when Tessa walked in on them. 

“Am I really unworthy of a good, loyal guy, Scott? Am I so unlovable?” she moaned through her crying, as he hushed her, rocking her in his embrace to soothe her at least a tiny bit. 

“Oh, T, of course not,” he convinced her fiercely. “You’re worthy of the best guy. The best in the world, you hear? He was the one who didn’t deserve your pinkie fingernail. The asshole.”

To that, Tessa burst out with fresh sobs. He _shh-shhed_ softly, rubbing her back, until her trembling ceased for the most part. 

“Stay, Scott, _please,”_ she begged, with nightfall right around the corner.

Scott pressed his lips to the side of her head as he stroked her hair. “I’m here,” he vowed. “Always.” 

He made her some food which she picked at to humor him, and some calming chamomile tea which she drank greedily, like it was medicine against heartbreak. She was too drained of energy to do anything that would distract her, and settled in Scott’s arms. But then her selfless nature made her worry out loud about his duties back home, his coaching and other things that held no candle for her own importance.

“Don’t worry, Tess. I’m going to be fine. You matter so much more.” 

He repeated it to her when she got comfortable on the couch, finally settling for a fitful sleep, and urged him to lie with her. He gathered her close, so his heart was beating under her ear. Did she hear it? She must have, because she dozed off a short time later. And, unexpectedly, whimpered through the haze of sleep, one word. His name.

“Scott...”

His heart gave a pang at how forlorn she sounded. “I’m right here, love. Not going away.” He dared to call her that for the first time, and, miraculously, she gave a contented sigh and quieted. Scott himself wasn’t able to sleep for a while yet. As sad and angry as he was for Tessa’s betrayal by the one she cared for, he was somewhere in his heart a tiny bit glad that she got rid of the guy who was not worthy of her time and love from the start.

_And you are?_ His mind sneered at him.

_Well, I’m here with her now, and that douche is somewhere probably screwing her two-faced roommate,_ he thought firmly, holding Tessa closer to him.

After that failed relationship, Tessa told him and everyone in no uncertain terms that she was taking a break from men. To Scott’s guilty happiness, it did not include him, and they grew as close together again as they have been in childhood and teenagehood. The following spring, they both received invitations to Chiddy’s wedding to his longtime girlfriend and recent fiancee Liz. Scott, as the best man, had many responsibilities at the event, and he worked hard to perfect their plans for the bachelor party and other upcoming festivities. He was content to see that Tessa did not have any envy regarding the couple, and was instead truly happy for them. Tessa, indeed, had healed. Her boutique was gaining popularity to the point that Liz, the future bride, had ordered all her accessories in it, all exclusively designed by Tess. 

Tessa was one of the bridesmaids, and she smiled and laughed so much with the other female members of the bridal party, sparkling with sincere joy and enthusiasm in everything she did for the wedding. She helped organize Liz’s bachelorette bash also, giggling and whispering to the bridesmaids about it. To Scott, she looked and sounded healed from her heartbreak, and it felt so good to see her laughing again.

The wedding day arrived, and what it made him feel shook him to the core.

As happy as he was for Chiddy and Liz, those friendly feelings took a second seat to what he was met with when he saw Tessa in her bridesmaid’s dress. Liz and Chiddy went all out with the autumn theme, choosing deep greens and reds and yellows as main colors, and all the groomsmen had green ties, while the bridesmaids boasted long evening dresses of emerald-green chiffon.

Scott could have kissed Liz (if he wasn’t vaguely worried that her new husband would challenge him to a duel) that she chose that exact color for the bridesmaids to wear. All the bridesmaids were pretty, but Tessa stood out in her stunning beauty. The green matched her eyes to the finest shade, making Scott’s world stand still in rapture as she walked out with the bridesmaids, until he remembered that he wasn’t the groom, and she was not the bride that evening.

He asked her to the slow dance, forgoing any platonic restraint. The languid, romantic melody had lyrics in a foreign language, and Scott, bizarrely, felt as if it was his heart singing to Tessa, as he held her and buried his nose in the crown of her head to inhale her fragrance. The combination of that fragrance, and his having drank considerable amounts of champagne during the toasts, and just the atmosphere of the evening made him bolder than ever before. 

_“I love you. You make me the happiest man in the world,”_ he murmured somewhere into the strawberry-scented mass of curled hair.

A soft chuckle from her. A squeeze of his shoulder. “Oh, Scott. That’s not what the lyrics are,” she laughed. But was that anxiety suddenly coloring her voice? Scott swallowed the lump in his throat.

So, there was no way she felt the same. She’d as good as confessed that just now.

He ended up running away from that reception, in the most cowardly of ways. He pleaded a headache just after the cake cutting and scurried off to his designated hotel room for the night. Tessa’s carefree brushing off of his not-so-subtle hint to her was his last straw. If he didn’t know any better, the lyrics, to her, must have been: _We’re friends, just friends, darling. You know it. We can’t._

But then, what about all the glances, the touches, the cheek kisses and cuddles and heart-to-hearts, throughout the years? How could he have misread it to such a degree? He, with his infamous ‘big heart’ and propensity for emotion? 

As much as his heart cried out to come back to her, to tell her without any tiptoeing on the subject, of all he felt, he clammed up. He’d give her space, since she seemed to advertise that pretty clearly.

After Tessa breezed away to Montreal, Scott himself got an admittedly exciting offer in Toronto, with the junior division of the Leafs. Chiddy’s wedding had left a widening chasm between him and Tessa, to his despair, but he could do nothing about it, nor did he know what was to be done. The Skype calls became less frequent. The contact limited itself to Christmas cards. Until one single occurrence. 

He’d found himself one day in the Montreal airport, going back ‘home’ to Toronto after a brief business trip. Having checked in, he stepped into a duty free shop to kill the time he still had before his flight. He did not realize that he’d stopped before a candy display until his hand reached out and he grabbed a handful. 

Strawberry lozenges. The little foil-wrapped pieces sent him spinning far away into the past, to the one person who loved them the most of anyone he knew. Tessa. That was her signature sweet fragrance from childhood onwards.

The smell intensified, and Scott turned around abruptly. He did not hear the light steps, but then again, maybe his heart did, and not his ears.

There she was, a year later. His Tessa. His T. His kiddo. Still the same as ever, with the dark waves of hair framing her delicate face; with the heart-stopping green eyes. 

“Scott?” she said quietly, at once full of wonder and surprise and welcome.

What was he to say? “Hi, T,” he replied, feeling virtual wings growing behind him, at the mere sight of her again. 

They’d walked out of the shop, fingers laced together. Tessa, too, had popped in there to buy some of her favorite candy for the flight to Paris. She’d shared, overjoyed, about her upcoming trip there to an independent fashion convention for two weeks.

_That’s my brilliant Tess,_ Scott thought proudly. He told her so, to her blush and shy smile. Still his vastly brilliant but modest Tess.

Until…

Their flights announced boarding, at the exact same moment.

“Well, I have to go.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Scott tried to gently make the first move to take his hand out of her grasp. Her tiny twitch in response said that she was trying to do the same. Regret at their forced parting was clear in her eyes. He hated that they had to do this, and had no intent of giving in to it.

He would not be able to explain who was the first to initiate what happened a beat after.

Either she tugged him, or he drew her swiftly into his arms to press their lips together. Scott knew he had never kissed, or would never kiss any other woman with such despair and relish and hunger ever again. He kissed her like someone was standing and waiting to drag her away, out of his grasp. He hugged her so closely that she made a tiny whimper, but not of protest - of tormented but explicit longing, he realized.

“Tess,” he gasped, pressing his lips all over her cheeks, her jaw, and even her neck, and not caring at all who might be watching or not. He needed to do this, before he either woke up from this wonderful and awful dream - it _had_ to be a dream! - or she pulled away. “Oh, _Tess.”_

_“Scott,”_ she whispered, running her small fingers through his hair and fueling his wild craving for her. “Please, Scott.” Was she begging him to stop or never to let her go?

It was the first and last kiss to overshadow any and all first and last kisses. The announcements now urged them to come to their respective check-in desks, because their flights were only missing them both, yet they did not stop clinging to each other until the last humanly possible minute.

* * *

“Daddy! Daddy! Good morning!”

Little warm hands patted his chest, and small puffs of breath near his ear prompted Scott to blink lazily. A smile spread across his face to see who’d coaxed him out of sleep. Of course. His favorite person.

His daughter.

“Guess what,” the three year old girl rattled off, “Mommy and I just had breakfast together! She made pancakes with maple stirrup!” adorably garbling the pronunciation of ‘syrup.’ “And then she let me have chocolate milk! She said that...that…” The child’s brow furrowed for a second. “Small indul... _indugincies_ …” 

He chuckled at her struggle to remember the phrase her mother had said. “Small indulgences become more enjoyable when you don’t have them often?”

“Yeah!” the little girl confirmed, bouncing on the bed with pent-up energy. “Soooo...what are we doing today, Daddy?”

He finally pulled up to sit and give his daughter a kiss on the forehead. “We, kiddo, are going to the park, and then we’ll get ice cream. And _then…”_ He peered into the wide hazel eyes, knowing what she was waiting for him to say.

“The toy store?” the little girl squealed in barely contained anticipation.

Scott _hmm_ -ed, pretending to consider the idea, but knowing full well that he’d buy her the _entire_ toy store had he the money. Spoiling his baby girl was one of his favorite activities.

“Well, Miss Moir...if you insist…” His answer drowned in happy exclamations.

Dina, Scott knew, was pulling out all the stops for her bimonthly day out with her girlfriends. It always featured a trip to the ‘pretty place’ (as their daughter called the beauty salon), and then the entire made-up and manicured clique went to the movies to catch the latest romantic comedy.

_At least there we match perfectly, in our love for rom-coms,_ Scott always thought wryly. In fact, the only traditionally girly thing that Dina strongly disliked was her old-fashioned first name. Her parents had named her Geraldine after a great-grandmother, and she grew tired, as she became an adult, of everyone dubbing her ‘that girl, with the super old name, what was it - Gladys? Georgiana?’ 

She’d informed Scott that her name was Dina and nothing else as soon as they met. She had come to pick up her nephew from his youngest hockey team’s lesson. Scott had moved back to Ilderton after a successful but rather exhausting career, and he found he was no less fulfilled with coaching at the smaller, less popular rink than in the stellar one backed by the Leafs in Toronto.

He and Dina somehow, bizarrely, had clicked enough to get engaged and then married two and a half years later. She was a good woman, an adoring wife, and a sweet and doting mother, and Scott wholeheartedly appreciated being married to her. He was grateful for her easygoing and humorous personality, for her patience and generosity. He liked her and was attracted to her an equal amount - the diminutive but shapely fiery-haired girl with the wide gray eyes did turn heads. It was he that at last caught Dina’s interest for good, however, to the mutual happiness of both their families. 

Scott loved his wife, but it was a calm, steady type of love. His skin did not erupt with goosebumps at her slightest touch. His heart didn’t begin to hammer wildly with excitement as soon as he saw her. No, as much as he cared for the woman whom he married and with whom he had a daughter, he wasn’t _in_ love with her. 

In contrast, he _adored_ little Tessie. His daughter was his entire world, and he was capable of both protecting her from every evil and giving his life for her in a wink, if it was necessary. The bright, inquisitive, vivacious little girl held his heart since the moment she, newly born, was placed in his arms. With her, there was so much ice cream eating, and slides in the park, and zoo outings, and stargazing at night. He felt full to bursting point with love and pride whether she brought him incomprehensibly doodled pictures, or interestingly shaped rocks she found outside, or simply said ‘I love you _this_ much, Daddy!’ spreading her small arms as wide as they would go. 

_“Why Tessa?” Dina had asked him. At eight and a half months, they were hard pressed to find at least one possible name for the baby girl. It was an epiphany of sorts to Scott. That name. One that was almost sacred to him._

_“I just think it sounds pretty,” he blurted nervously, waiting for her reaction. What if Dina doesn’t like it? He wasn’t foolish enough to make it sound like it was an ex-flame’s name. Plus, Tessa had been so much more than even one tenth of an ex-flame._

_Dina thought about it for a few moments, stroking her abdomen. “Tessa, Tessa…huh. I like that, too.” She presented him with a wide smile. “Tessa it is, then? Tessa Moir. Sounds so elegant!”_

_Scott’s heart gave a bittersweet skip at that combination. So much of what was lost was in it. But now, he was about to gain something equally precious._

_“It does sound great,” he agreed, swallowing a lump to ease the onslaught of unwelcome tears._

Scott and Tessie arrived at the playground, and the little girl immediately requested that he push her on the swings. Scott helped her up, instructing Tessie to hold on tight.

“Alright, kiddo? And one, two, three!”

Tessie let out overjoyed squeals, begging him to do it again, as he complied, but still controlled the momentum of the swing so it wouldn’t go _too_ fast or _too_ high for her. He chased her around a bit afterwards, and then let her go to her little pre-kindergarten group to play ball with the other children. Meanwhile, Scott sat on a bench and just watched her, filled with endearment at her exuberant play.

“Scotty! Scott! Wait for Mommy!”

No, it couldn’t be. Was his hearing playing tricks on him?

First, Scott saw a little boy, about Tessie’s size and age, running towards where the ball had fallen. And then, _then -_

Scott turned around and just nearly bumped into Tessa. The same Tessa whom he had carefully tucked away in his memory, unsure if she as a person had been real at all at this point. The Tessa who was apparently now mother to a little messy-haired boy with a name that matched his, Scott’s.

“Tessa…” Scott whispered. Then, more loudly, “Tess? Is that you?”

Tessa gave a little laugh when their eyes met, a shadow of the boisterous laugh of her adolescence. Of course, it was her. Older, just like he was, and with her hair a trendy shoulder length instead of the previous loose waves. But still with those piercing, gorgeous green eyes. Still essentially Tessa. As always.

“It’s me,” she laughed a little again. “And it’s you.”

He nodded. “It’s me,” he copied her, smiling. He could not believe it. The tumult of feelings that she always elicited in him came back to flood his heart.

Tessa looked behind him. “Is that your daughter?” Unmistakably, she pointed out Tessie in the group of playing children.

Scott was bewildered by the accuracy. “How did you know?” 

Tessa’s smile was quiet, wistful. “She looks like you,” she replied simply.

“And your Scotty looks like you,” he told her, warmth in his voice. Still mostly lost for words, he searched for the answer to his next burning thing he wanted to know.

“But you’re here. In Ilderton. Not Montreal?”

“Neither are _you_ in Toronto.”

“Touché.”

They sat together on the bench he’d occupied minutes before. Scott was grateful to have taken a seat. The sight of Tessa again, after all that time and change rocked his inner world. The world that had been so orderly and peaceful with the inclusion of Dina and Tessie.

Tessa sighed quietly, observing her Scotty come up to Scott’s Tessie with an offer to play ball together. The little girl met this with a beaming smile and a “yes!” It did not look like reality, almost. His child and Tessa’s, playing together instantly upon meeting.

“I wanted to move here for a while already. Montreal was a little too...much. I don’t know how to explain it. I’d had this _compulsion_ to come back here, where everything -” she flicked a glance towards him, “- and everyone was familiar. Scotty and I just moved into our house two months ago.”

Scott’s heart thumped, a painful jolt. Two months Tessa and her son have been here, and he hadn’t run into them until today…

“So...is there...I mean, do you have a…” Damn him. Why did he have to go and ask her that?

Tessa sighed once more. Shrugged. She watched Scotty and Tessie for a moment and then spoke. “I got divorced ten months ago.”

Scott sucked a breath in. _His poor T._ “That’s tough. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“No, no,” she cut in, gently but decisively. “You didn’t know.”

Her hand, her small, dainty hand was so near his on the bench. He’d have to move his own so slightly to touch it. But he didn’t, waiting with a heavy heart for her return question.

“You? I mean, are you..?” Tessa was as anxious as he with asking _that._ Her green eyes held such a heartbreaking combination of despair and hope, that Scott contemplated lying for a split second. Then, realized that his wedding ring would be a tell (that she hadn’t apparently noticed) if he did tell her anything else but the truth.

“I’ve been married for around four years,” he finally revealed. Dared to look at her. Her eyes were unreadable, though she did not look as devastated as he imagined. But then, she was always good at keeping a strong face, his Tess. It matched her inner core of steel, undoubtedly toughened by years in the ruthless world of fashion merchandising.

“Does she make you happy?” The question was a soft gust of spring wind. 

_Did she mean Tessie or his wife?_

“She does,” was all Scott said. 

“Daddy, look!”

Tessie alerted him to the spot in the sandbox that she and Scotty took hold of. She was proudly showing off their freshly built sandcastle.

He touched Tessa’s arm gently, aware suddenly that she was too engrossed in looking at his face, rather than even her own son. “Look,” he said to her, encouragingly, pointing out Tessie and Scotty. To that, Tessa grinned, for the first time wholly resembling her adolescent self again.

“That’s pretty, Scotty!” she praised. “And Tessie, too.” Scott felt renewed yearning prickling at him as she addressed his daughter by name. “Great job!”

“Thank you!” Tessie called back, flashing her a gap-toothed smile.

As the short interaction ended, Scott resolved to just say it. They were friends, only friends. What harm would it do?

“Hey, Tess? Can we...I mean, you think we could meet up sometime? For old time’s sake?”

It did not begin to cover their extensive past and their apprehensive future, but it was something. A gesture. A consideration.

Green flickers danced in her eyes. “Sure. I’d like that.”

“You still like double chocolate sundaes?” His voice turned boyish, mischievous. Just like five, ten, fifteen years ago.

“Always,” she said, the word soaked in sincerity.

The most painful and most beautiful of words.

Them, in a nutshell.


End file.
